


I Need You

by ghostofachancewithyou



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofachancewithyou/pseuds/ghostofachancewithyou
Summary: Frederick overhears people whispering about his scars and reader tries to comfort him. Set after season 3. Based on a tumblr prompt bymrschiltoncat.





	I Need You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrschiltoncat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrschiltoncat/gifts).



> Thank you, [goodnerd49](http://goodnerd49.tumblr.com), for beta-reading this for me. <3

The worst part of his recovery wasn’t the discomfort of living in a body that didn’t feel like his own anymore. Or the never-ending itching. Once you knew what real pain was, it seemed laughable.

Some had predicted it would be boredom that was finally going to get to him. But between working on what would certainly become another bestseller, re-cataloging his wine collection, shopping online (ties for him, Louboutins for you), and spending his evenings with you, he had settled astonishingly well into his home life.

No. What bothered - sometimes even aggravated - him, was having to constantly depend on someone. First at the hospital, pricked and probed by what seemed like every doctor and medical intern in the state. Then at home, but it still didn’t quite feel like home, how could it with a squad of nurses taking turns at caring for him 18 hours a day. Ointments, pressure garment therapy. Surgery. More surgery.

And then one day, the nurses were gone. Finally there was only you and him. But it still felt different.

Before the dragon … before what Frederick referred to as _the incident_ , it had always sounded so romantic: _I need you. What would I ever do without you?_

Not that it had been a lie, but it filled him with bitterness to think that a poetic declaration had turned into a dull, daily reality. You were the one who drove the car. You were the one who cooked and did the laundry. He was the one who needed you more and, proud as he was, this was something Frederick still hadn’t completely come to terms with. How could he allow himself to rely on you for everything. You had your own career, you struggled with anxiety yourself. And no matter how often you tried to assure him that you didn’t mind at all, that everything was okay because he was alive–the last thing you needed was to worry about your maimed and aging husband 24/7.

But there was a silver lining. Things _were_ , in fact, getting better. He was healing, physically and mentally. He could _do_ things, a bit more each day.

The day before yesterday an old friend from his Harvard days had called out of the blue. Frederick had managed to talk about what had happened to him last year, with a steady voice and without hyperventilating. And yesterday evening he had taken you out to watch a movie. It had seemed scary at first, but the employee at the box office hadn’t even looked at him when he bought the tickets In the dark cinema, he held you with a smile on his face, sighing contentedly as he stroked your hair. Things would be normal again.

And he had you to thank for it.

Frederick looked at his watch: about an hour until you’d come home from work. He decided to go for a little walk. His doctor had strongly advised against pushing himself too hard and he didn’t feel strong enough to walk for longer than twenty minutes anyway. But your favorite Italian deli was essentially around the corner. He could get you a few of those pastries you loved so much. He smiled, not without a little complacency He put on his coat and gloves, grabbed his cane and stepped outside.

Winter had hit the city exceptionally hard this year, but at least it wasn’t snowing today. A few tentative steps on the driveway. No ice. Good. Here we go.

He reached the deli in ten minutes, a little short of breath, but he had made it. Inside, a customer was standing at the pastry counter, chatting with the owner who acknowledged Frederick with a small nod. He wasn’t particularly nervous. This was his neighborhood. He knew that guy. Safe territory. It looked like the customer was still deciding on what to get, so Frederick took his time and wandered through the store, gazing at the shelves full of imported pasta, fancy balsamic vinegars and bottled pasta sauces. Maybe he’d pick up something here and surprise you with dinner when you came home. He had just decided which kind of pasta to buy when he heard it. The owner behind the counter was still talking to the customer, but for some reason they spoke in hushed voices, but not quietly enough.

“… almost two years now. When he came home from the hospital we didn’t see him for months.”

“Ooooh, I don’t blame him,” the customer sounded almost excited, “it must’ve been real bad. The scars … awful!“

Frederick froze. Were they talking about …

“Eh, he could’ve had it worse. Family’s rich, you know. He had experts flown in from all over the country. And his wife stayed with him, so …”

“Did she? I don’t know if I could’ve–”

 _Clang_. The whispering stopped abruptly. Frederick was shaking so hard he’d lost grip of the bottle of sauce that he’d been holding. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. _How dare they? And how dare they bring her into this?_

He was not going to make a scene. He was above all that. Above them. Suddenly he felt very tired. 

Frederick appeared from behind the shelf and walked right past the owner (who stared at him) and the customer who was suddenly very busy searching for something in her purse. Through the door, outside.

A light coat of snow covered the street and sidewalks.

He was already at home when he realized that he still had that bag of pasta tucked under his arm.

*

“Freddy, I’m home.”

No answer.

With a sigh you let your bag slide to the floor and step out of your heels. You furrow your brows when you see that there’s a bag of pasta lying on the glass table in the entrance hall. Freddy’s a neat freak, he usually wouldn’t leave something lie around like that. Weird.

“Freddy?”

Maybe he’s in his office.

On the way upstairs you twist your hair into a bun and unbutton your cardigan. It had been a long day, you’re tired, cold, and so ready for a long shower. Maybe you can convince Freddy to join you …

The door to his office is half open. He’s sitting at his desk, agitatedly rummaging through some papers.

“Hey baby!”

At your voice he turns around in his chair.

“Hello, darling, I didn’t hear you.”

His voice is unusually quiet and his smile kind of wry. _It’s one of the bad days_ , you think. And then your protective instinct just kicks in. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. He responds immediately and leans his head against your midriff, wrapping his arms around your waist.

After a few seconds he pulls back and looks up at you. There’s something unsettling about the look he’s giving you and suddenly you know that it’s not just a bad day. Something has happened. He turns around and starts combing through the files in front of him again.

“Why don’t you order something, hm, whatever you want. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Nice try, but you won’t let him get rid of you so easily.

“What are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”

“I’m looking for the name of that surgeon … Dr. Keller wrote it down for me, I know it must be _somewhere_ in here …”

He sounds a little desperate now.

This is getting weirder by the second.

“Wasn’t Dr. Keller one of your plastic surgeons? But the treatment is finished! Your face looks great, I mean …”

He interrupts you with an impatient sigh. Frederick has never interrupted you before.

“What they said is that the surgery had an excellent outcome. Excellent. Not perfect. That’s why I’m looking for the name and phone number of that other expert Dr. Keller told me about.”

_Impatient and annoyed._

“Frederick, what’s going on? I thought we–I thought you had decided you didn’t want any more surgery?”

“I’m allowed to change my mind, am I not?”

You sit down on the edge of his desk, right in front of him, forcing him to look at you.

“What happened, hm? Everything was fine when I left for work. And now you’re so … different. Did you go outside today? I see you bought pasta.”

You tilt your head and smile sweetly at him.

He looks at you over his reading glasses, struggling to hold back tears.

“Why are you still here?”

“What do you mean, baby?”

You reach out and run two fingers over his cheek.

“Here, with me, of course. I’ll never be the same ag–”

He takes off his glasses and buries his face in his hands.

Instinctively, you lean forward and place your hands on his shoulders.

“Frederick, look at me!”

You need him to snap out of this. Since he was burned, he suffers from respiratory issues and you remember very well what happened the last time he had an anxiety attack and hyperventilated.

You gently pull his hands away from his face. He looks so miserable, you feel like crying yourself, but right now you need to be strong for the both of you.

“Breathe with me, love, come on, you can do it.”

After a few minutes, when his breathing is steadier and he’s not crying anymore, you help him up and lead him over to the bedroom. You sit down on the bed.

“Do you want to lie down?”

Instead of answering you, he listlessly shakes his head.

“Come on, Freddy bear, what is it?”

He leans his head on your shoulder and you wrap your arms around him.

A deep breath. And then he tells you what happened.

*

When he’s finished, you’re the one who’s crying and needs to be held.

“I’m sorry [Y/N], I shouldn’t have told you. You worry about me all the time. ”

“Why are _you_ sorry, Freddy,” you sniffle against his chest. “They should feel sorry, and they will. I’m going there first thing tomorrow. They hurt my Freddy, they’re going to pay.”

Frederick chuckles.

You look up at him, indignantly.

“What? This kitty has claws.”

“I’m sorry, kitty. I love you.”

“Love you too. And stop apologizing.”

He kisses you softly, pulling away much too soon for your taste. He looks down and runs the fingertips of his one hand over your skirted thigh.

“I can’t help it. Sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough for you. You need someone without baggage, someone who’s stronger …”

You place a finger under his chin and lift his face to yours.

“You’re the strongest man I know. The only man I want. Please remember that.“

He nods, but his eyes are still sad.

“When we started dating … when my anxiety was still so bad, you were there for me. You gave me a reason to make it through the day. For you and for us …“

You break off and swallow hard.

“I need you, Frederick.”

His lips curl into a small smile and suddenly he’s overcome by his feelings for you. He presses his forehead against yours and whispers “Thank you.”

_Thank you for loving me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for everything._

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this.
> 
> [I'm on tumblr.](http://ghostofachancewithyou.tumblr.com)


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